


in some other life (we are standing side by side)

by Cones_McMurphy



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Dimitri is bi, F/M, Modern AU, Mostly Fluff, Some angst, You're Welcome, a blending of things from the movie and the stage musical, although I am absolutely imagining dimitri and anya as derek klena and christy altomare, and Alexei is gay because I CAN, and some drinking, and some talks about Sad Childhoods lmao, and they were ROOMMATES, because I love them both, dimitri "i'm sorry you must be a level 4 friend to unlock my tragic backstory' sudayev, dimitri is a damn fool, get ready for sixish chapters of nonsense folks, nothing but respect for MY dimya, oh my god they were roommates, possibly, rated teen and up for some swearing, the bickering roommates AU noone asked for, this is how I'm spending my winter break, this is trash and I am trash, wow I have been talking way too much in these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-09-29 18:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cones_McMurphy/pseuds/Cones_McMurphy
Summary: Dimitri knew posting a listing on craigslist was just asking for trouble, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And as far as Dimitri was concerned, his roommate moving out with barely more than a day’s notice in the middle of the month was definitely a desperate situation.





	1. March-April

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is, and I don't have a beta.

_WANTED: Roommate to share two bedroom apartment with 26 year old male. One bathroom. Applicants must be clean, non smokers. Gender is not a factor. Must be able to tolerate late work hours. Rent is $2000 a month total, plus utilities and internet._

_Call Dimitri Sudayev: (917) 685 4932_

 

Dimitri knew posting a listing on craigslist was just asking for trouble, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And as far as Dimitri was concerned, his roommate moving out with barely more than a day’s notice in the middle of the month was definitely a desperate situation. Rent was due in two weeks--ie, the first of April, and if Dimitri didn’t find a roommate to split the cost, he was, for lack of a better term, shit outta luck. He’d have to pay the full rent all by himself, which he definitely couldn’t afford on the money he made as a waiter slash bartender at The Palace, even if he doubled his hours and didn’t sleep for two weeks.

The landlord, Vlad, was a nice guy, and even came into The Palace for a drink every now and then--although Dimitri figured he was more interested in the owner, Lily, than in anything Dimitri had to say--but even a landlord as nice as Vlad wasn’t willing to budge on Dimitri’s rent beyond a small grace period. Maybe if Dimitri convinced Lily to go out on a date with Vlad, he would get out of his rent. After all, it was no secret that Vlad was interested in Lily, and Dimitri could hardly blame him. Lily was no spring chicken, but neither was Vlad, and by all accounts Lily was still a beautiful woman. And she owned an upscale restaurant and bar in the heart of Brooklyn. She was, for all intents and purposes, a catch.

Dimitri sighed and read through the listing one more time before posting it through squinted eyes and closing his laptop immediately. He leaned back in his chair and picked up his phone. 11:17. _Shit_. He was going to be late for work.

* * *

“Are you _seriously_ going to call some guy on Craigslist?” Olga asked in disbelief, her voice loud enough to carry over the din of the bustling coffee shop.

Anya shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” Olga threw back the last swig of her latte, “Does the phrase Stranger Danger mean anything to you? It’s a MAN. On the INTERNET.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m not committing to anything by calling him. If he seems sketchy on the phone, I obviously won’t go check out the apartment.”

“Sure,” Olga nodded, “But you’ll be giving him your number.”

“I can block him,” Anya shrugged. “And I need to find a new apartment soon. Need I remind you that I lost my job? There’s no way that I can sustain my current living situation. At least not until I get back on my feet.”

“You could always--”

“I’m _not_ asking our grandmother for money!” Anya snapped, knowing exactly what her older sister was about to say.

Olga scoffed. “You have too much pride.”

“It’s not a matter of pride,” Anya shook her head. “I don’t want to take advantage of Nona. Just because I know she’d support me in a heartbeat, doesn’t mean I should ask her to do so.”

“Fine,” Olga leaned back in her chair. “Call the craigslist man.”

“I don’t need your permission” But Anya was already taking her phone out of her pocket and dialing the number.

He answered on the second ring. “Hello?” He sounded groggy and confused, like he’d just woken up. _The listing did say he worked late hours._

“Is this Dimitri Sudayev?”

“Who wants to know?” His voice was smooth and deep, with just a hint of an edge.

“I’m interested in your listing on craigslist. The two bedroom apartment?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

“Is this a bad time?” Anya chewed her stir stick nervously.

“It’s as good a time as any,” a pause, “I just honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to answer my listing. It was sort of an act of desperation after my roommate, Sam, moved out.”

“Right…”

“Anyways, uh, tell me about yourself.”

“Alright, my name’s Anya, I’m 24. I’m currently unemployed, but I have enough savings to make rent. Just not my current rent. I’m very neat, and keep to myself.”

“Aright.” Anya heard rustling through the phone. “Well, do you want to come over and see the apartment?”

“Um…”

“My landlord will be there, too. I promise this is totally legitimate.”

“Well...alright. When?”

“Is this afternoon too soon?” He hesitated, and then, “It’s just that my work schedule is really crazy right now, so if you can’t come today, it’ll have to be four or five days from now.”

“I see,” Anya clicked her teeth. “Yes, I think I can do that.”

“Cool. What’s your email? I’ll send you that address.”

“anromanov@gmail.com,” she supplied, “Thanks.”

“Alright, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dimitri.” Anya hung up her phone, slid it back into her purse, and met Olga’s wide eyes.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

* * *

Dimitri’s apartment was small and somewhat dingy, but it definitely wasn’t the worst place Anya had seen in her search for a new abode. His old roommate hadn’t left any furniture behind in the bedroom that was meant to be hers, but she had a mattress and a night stand, and there was a closet for her clothes. Anya was not a high maintenance kind of woman, not like Olga and Maria, who revelled in their family’s wealth. Peeling paint and cracks in the wall were not enough to scare her away.

And the landlord, Vlad, seemed kind. He at least had the manners to apologize for the fact that Dimitri hadn’t shown up. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” he’d said, as they’d entered the apartment. “I think he’ll be late to his own funeral someday.”

So far, Anya had been there twenty minutes, walked through the entire apartment, and _still_ no Dimitri.

“Should I wait?”

Vlad checked his watch. “Just a few more minutes? He’ll be here. He’s a good kid, he’s just kind of...scattered.”

Anya nodded. “I’ll give him five more minutes.”  She leaned against the kitchen counter, and took in the details of the room. The cream colored paint was peeling off the walls, and there were cracks in the tile floor. But it was an open floor plan, and for her spot near the kitchen sink, she could see the living room, and the television set. Not a bad design at all. There was a large window behind the couch, which allowed the golden afternoon light to illuminate the apartment. There was clutter on pretty much every surface, save for the kitchen counters and stove top, but it didn’t bother Anya too much--the place seemed homey.

“So,” she clicked her teeth. “How’d you become a landlord?”

“I lied and cheated my way to success,” Vlad grinned, a glint in his eye.

“Seriously?” Anya raised an eyebrow.

“I won the building in a poker game.”

Anya narrowed her eyes. “You’re screwing with me.”

“I’m dead serious.”

“What the hell kind of poker game involves wagering an apartment complex?”

“The dangerous kind,” Vlad winked.

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and a tall, lean young man stood in the threshold. He was handsome, big brown eyes framed by messy, reddish brown bangs, and a hint of a smirk pulling on his lips, revealing dimples. He wore a brown leather jacket over a light blue henley, and dark wash jeans. For a moment, Anya was sure an American Eagle model had just mistakenly burst through the door.

Until he spoke.

“Is he telling you about the poker game? Don’t listen to anything he says. I got him drunk once, and he told me that he inherited this crappy old building from some dying, childless relative.”

Vlad shot the man a glare. “Shut up, Dimitri.”

Anya’s mouth went dry. _This_ was Dimitri? _You have_ got _to be kidding me._ “You’re Dimitri?”

He nodded and put his hand out to shake. “That’s me. Sorry I’m late, I got a bit held up.”

His hand was rough and calloused, but not really in a bad way. “Nice to meet you.”

“So,” he ran his now free hand through his hair. “What do you think of the place?”

“I like it a lot,” Anya smiled. “I’ll have to move some furniture in to the bedroom, of course--”

“You want to move in?” Dimitri’s eyes widened.

“Why are you so surprised?”

“Oh, no, I just,” Dimitri cleared his throat. “I was expecting a bit more work, y’know, to find someone. But this is great.”

Vlad snorted. “Smooth.”

“So, uh, can we put her on the lease, Vlad?”

Vlad grimaced. “Unfortunately not. I can’t make any changes to the lease until a year from now, when the contract expires. I’m sorry, kid, but you signed a two year lease.”

Dimitri cursed under his breath. “Fuckin’ Sam. Bastard.”

“Calm down. I’ll let her live here, but it will technically speaking be an illegal sublet,” Vlad shrugged. “As long as you get along decently, that shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“I should have another job in a few months, anyway, so that’s fine with me.” Anya shrugged. It’s not like she wanted to live in a dingy two bedroom for the rest of her life.

Dimitri nodded. “Yeah, that’ll give me enough time to find a more permanent roommate.”

Anya found herself smiling. “Then I guess it’s settled, Roomie.”

* * *

“An _ya_!” Dimitri’s blood was boiling as he stepped out of the bathroom, holding a hairbrush covered in long, blonde hair. It had only been two weeks since she moved in, and already he wanted to kill her.

“What?” She asked calmly, leaning against the kitchen counter, eating fruit on the bottom Greek yogurt.

“Can you _please_ stop leaving your hairbrush in the bathroom counter?” He held it out to her, pinched between his index finger and his thumb. “It’s disgusting.”

Anya sighed and set down her yogurt to take the hairbrush from him. “Men are such babies.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes, “Sorry I like a clean counter space.”

Anya scoffed as she made her way to the bathroom to put the brush in her drawer. “Clean counter space? Like our kitchen counter that’s currently littered with your dirty dishes?” She dropped the brush into her drawer, slammed it shut, and stepped back towards Dimitri. “You do know this apartment has a dishwasher right?”

Dimitri balled his fists. “Some of us have jobs, _your highness_ ,” he spat. She really thought she was so perfect. He really wished he’d known she was a rich kid before she moved in. “Or did you forget that not everyone spends all their time at home.”

Anya huffed. “I’m looking for work, you ass.” She stepped forward again, this time into his personal space, her sharp blue eyes glaring up at him. The bright orangey cent of her shampoo hit him and for a second he couldn’t  breathe, it was so strong.

“You wanna move out of the way?” Anya said, snapping Dimitri back into the moment. “I still have yogurt to finish.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he managed, stepping to the side so she could through. “Sorry.”

* * *

It was early afternoon, and Anya was camped out at their cramped excuse for a dining table, scrolling through job listings. Or so Dimitri assumed, when he shuffled out from his bedroom.

“Morning,” He said with a nod, stretching his arms over his head.

“Don’t you mean good afternoon?” Anya quipped.

“It’s been three weeks,” Dimitri shook his head, pulling a bowl and a box of Honey Nut Cheerios off the shelf. “Aren’t you tired of that joke yet?”

“Hmm, let me think,” she cocked her head to the side and pretended to think for a moment. “Nope!”

Dimitry rolled his eyes and poured his cereal. “How goes the job search?”

“Fucking terrible. I haven’t found a single job I’m qualified for.”

“Damn,” Dimitri sighed and pulled his milk out of the fridge. “And here I was hoping you’d be gone soon.”

“Oh, because you’ve managed to find yourself a new roommate already?” Anya rolled her eyes.

Dimitri frowned, and brought his cereal and milk to the table and sat down next to her. He didn’t want to look at her screen, but he almost couldn’t help it. She had a few tabs and windows open, the top one of which was her LinkedIn profile...Except…

“Why does it say Anastasia?”

“That’s my name.”

“Did you give me a fake name?” Dimitri blinked twice.

Anya sighed. “When my little brother, Alexei, was a baby, he couldn’t say ‘Anastasia’--all he could manage was ‘Anya.’ It stuck.”

“I see.” Dimitri nodded and took a bite of cereal.

“At this point, only my grandmother calls me Anastasia. But I use it professionally, because it’s the name on my birth certificate.”

“Makes sense,” Dimitri gestured with his spoon. “ _Anastasia.”_

“Dimitri.” Anya shook her head. “Please don’t make this a thing.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that,” Dimitri grinned. “I’m never letting this die.”

Anya groaned. “I hate you.”

“Rest assured, the feeling’s mutual.”

* * *

 

Vlad threw back a shot of vodka, and slammed the glass down on the bar table.

“Give me another, kid.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes. “This’ll be your fourth one. Maybe slow down a little.”

“M’boy, I’m _Russian_. Hit me again.” Vlad knew Dimitri meant well, but he really underestimated Vlad’s tolerance level.

“If you insist,” Dimitri shrugged and poured a new glass.

“Thank you,” Vlad smiled. “Now, tell me how things are going with that Anya girl.”

“Ugh.” Dimitri’s lip curled up in disgust. “She is the most self-important person I’ve ever met. Oh, my grandmother is rich, but I didn’t take any of her money. I’m going to make it on my own and leave my hairbrush on Dimitri’s bathroom counter.”

“Good thing it’s only temporary, then,” Vlad took the shot. “Have you been interviewing other people to live with you?”

“I haven’t, uh. I haven’t really had time,” Dimitri shifted his weight uncomfortably, and crossed his arms. “Between work, and Anya making me regrout the bathroom, buy new pillows for the couch with her, and put up curtains, I really haven’t had the time.”

“You regrouted the bathroom tile?” Vlad was almost offended. He was the landlord, stuff like that was kind of his domain. “Because Anya asked?”

Dimitri scoffed. “She didn’t just ask, she bothered me about it for a _week_ every chance she got. I couldn’t listen to her bitch about the tiles for another second.”

“You sound like she’s your wife,” Vlad chuckled.

“Excuse me? My wife? I can’t stand that woman!” Dimitri snapped.

“Ohhh, I see what’s happening here,” Vlad smirked. “You _like_ her.”

“What? No--I--I,” Dimitri stuttered. “I just told you. I hate her.”

“Mmmhmm, sure.”

“Seriously, Vlad? You really think I’m attracted to that skinny little brat?”

Vlad shrugged. “I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

Dimitri narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you have to go bother Lily somewhere?”

“Alright, alright,” Vlad slid off his bar stool. “I know when I’m not wanted. But I’m still right!” He strode towards Lily’s back office. “Dimitri and Anya sitting in a tree K-I-S-S--”

“Shut _up_!”


	2. May-June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!!! did anyone order an orphan with a side of tragic backstory?

It was warm, one of the first days where it felt like the chill of spring was fading to the summer heat, and Anya wanted nothing more than to be outside. But it was Saturday, which meant she had to have afternoon tea with her grandmother and her sisters….and her grandmother’s personal assistant, Sophie.

Tea with Nona wasn’t all bad. Anya loved her grandmother, she really did. But sometimes the big house and fine china and the aggressive manners were all a bit stuffy for her. Sometimes, she wanted to slouch and eat an apple without slicing it first--sometimes (most times) she couldn’t care less if her spoon clanked against the side of the tea cup. But oh, _oh_ did Nona care. It didn’t help that Maria, Olga, and Tatiana were all perfect ladies, content to be idle and rich for the rest of their lives. 

Nona respected her and her choice to be self sufficient, instead of relying on the family wealth and influence to get ahead. She picked a field outside of politics or business, where the name “Romanov” didn’t mean anything to anyone. Maybe she’d never make her fortune like her great-great-great grandparents did, but that didn’t matter. She _liked_ her job. Or, she liked the job she used to have before she was unceremoniously fired.

She’d been working her way up the food chain at a pretty well known New York publishing house, so close to being promoted from editing assistant to junior editor that she could taste it, when the company took a nosedive and fired a good third of their staff. Including one Miss Anastasia “Anya” Nikolaevna Romanov. And now she was living in a crappy apartment with a guy she met on Craigslist. Every week it was the same questions: _“Do you have a new job yet?” “Why are you still living in that apartment with that craigslist boy? You know you just have to ask, and I can give you some money.”_ It was nauseating.

“So, Anya,” Sophie said, breaking Anya out of her thoughts. “Olga tells me that Dimitri is a bartender.”

“A bartender!” Nona exclaimed. “That’s rather uncouth.”

“Nona,” Anya sighed, “He’s also a waiter. Sometimes he washes dishes. And he works at The Palace. Are you really calling Lily Malevsky-Malevitch’s restaurant uncouth? I’m pretty sure he gets benefits. I’ve never seen a more well treated waitstaff.”

“He works at Lily’s place?” Olga asked between sips of tea. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Of course it’s relevant,” Maria said sharply. “Bartender in general is very different than bartender at The Palace.”

"I agree," Sophie said emphatically. "The Palace is high end French fusion. It's not your average New York bar." 

Anya rolled her eyes. “You’re all way too concerned about this. You shouldn’t judge Dimitri based on what he does for a living.” Anya paused under the heavy gazes of her sisters. “You should judge him for being messy and rude.”

Tatiana laughed, “I was getting worried there for a second! It sounded like you were defending him.”

Anya chuckled. “No, no. He’s infuriating. But even still, he doesn’t deserve to be looked down upon because he’s working class.”

Olga sighed. “You’re right,” she said, in her mature older sister voice. She’d really perfected that once she’d turned 30.

“Is he still leaving his dishes on the kitchen counter?” Maria asked eagerly.

“Oh, of course. He’s Dimitri Sudayev. Too busy for the dishwasher,” Anya shook her head. “Not to mention the wet towels in the bathroom and the food of mine that mysteriously disappears and his constant rude comments. I mean, really, no wonder his last roommate left.”

“He eats your food?” Nona was incredulous. “That’s unacceptable, Anastasia. I must insist that you move out of that apartment as soon as possible.”

“That’s the plan, Nona,” Anya set down her tea cup. “As soon as I find another job and can afford a better place, I’m out of there.”

“Good,” Nona nodded.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Anya stood up. “I have a job interview to get to. Thank you for the tea and the _lovely_ conversation.”   


* * *

 

Dimitri awoke with a start, to the sound of screams. He sat up straight, every muscle in his body tense. _“No! No, please! No!”_  It was Anya’s voice, he realized. He checked the time. 3 AM. He was usually on his way home from work at this time of night, but for the first time in a long time, he had a night off. 

He grabbed the nearest weaponizable object--which turned out to be one of his shoes--and ran across the hall to her room, only to find it empty, except for her flailing in bed. He dropped the shoe and knelt by the bed, gently place his hands on her shoulders, and giving her a shake.

“Anya,” he said quietly, and then a little louder. “Anya, wake up!”

Her eyes fluttered up just slightly. “The voices...The voices keep coming back…” She curled into him, and he could feel her heart pounding, her tears soaking through his shirt.

“You were having a nightmare,” He said as softly as he could. “You’re safe.”

She looked up at him, blinked twice, and furrowed her brow. “Dimitri? I thought...”

“I heard you scream.”

She wiggled free from his grip. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Anya…” He hesitated. It was too dark to see her expression--he hadn’t bothered to turn on the light--but he wondered if maybe she was embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

* * *

“I understand. Thank you for this opportunity,” Anya tried to hide the bitter disappointment in her voice and remain professional, but she could tell she wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “Goodbye.” She set her cell phone down on the dining table in front of her and sighed. Another interview, and another rejection.

“I’m never going to work again!” She yelled to the air.

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and Dimitri walked in wearing a navy blue peacoat and carrying a brown leather messenger bag over his shoulder. “What’re you yelling about this time?”

“I was just passed over for yet another job,” Anya leaned back in her chair. “I’m never going to find a job.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Dimitri smirked. “I hear the circus is coming to town.”

Anya shot him a glare. “Oh, shut up!”

Dimitri put his hands up, clearly intimidated. “Okay, let’s calm down. I’m not the hiring manager who rejected you. I just live here.”

“You’re right,” Anya huffed, “You’re worse.”

“Well, I tried.” Dimitri dropped his hands. “I give up.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“No can do,” Dimitri stepped into the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets. “It’s dinner time.”

“Whatever.” Anya leaned forward and dropped her head on the table and closed her eyes. _Maybe I should just give up and work at McDonalds_.

“Hey…” Dimitri’s voice was suddenly right next to her. She lifted her head to see him standing right over her. “I have something for you.”

“You--Have--What?!”

He rummaged around in his messenger bag, and pulled out a styrofoam to-go box. “I bought you dinner.”

“You...Bought me dinner?” Anya blinked, her brain unable to process what was happening. “Why?”

“I felt bad that I ate some of you food, and I wanted to pay you back,” he shrugged, as if it was just that simple.

“What is it?”

“Sushi from that place you like so much.” He ran a hand through his hair. “The place you had dinner with Maria at a couple weeks ago.”

Anya opened the box and balked. It was full of all her favorites, and _definitely_ worth more than the yogurt cups and slices of bread he’d stolen. “Dimitri, this was expensive.”

“Consider it an investment,” Dimitri’s brown eyes were soft. “So I can eat more of your food in the future.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

Dimitri shrugged and averted his gaze.

“Dimitri?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

* * *

Dimitri woke up to screams for the fourth time. This time, he didn’t bother with a shoe. He still rushed across the hall to Anya’s room, shook her awake, and let her curl into him. “No, no, Mama!” she screamed.

“Shh,” he soothed. “You’re having a nightmare.”

After a moment, her body stopped shaking, and she sat up, wiping the tear stains from her cheeks. Dimitri took that as his cue, and stood up to leave.

“Dimitri,” she called out, voice small and afraid. “Can you...stay?”

Dimitri froze. “What?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Dimitri swallowed. “Okay.” He slid back onto her bed, and she pulled up the covers, throwing them over his shoulders. He stayed stiff and rigid on his back, not sure what exactly she wanted him to do. And then she curled into him, resting her head on his chest, and he let his arm wrap around her, because it seemed like the natural thing to do. She fell asleep quickly, and at some point he followed suit.

“Goodnight, Anya.”

* * *

 

Anya paced the short hallway of the apartment. It had been two nights since Dimitri had woken her up from her nightmares for the fourth time. She’d woken up first and left him in her bed, and they hadn’t spoken about it since. And that’s how she wanted it. But it was weighing on her, knowing that Dimitri had been so kind to her, and he didn’t even know _why_ he had to do that. Which made his actions all the more compassionate and made her feel even worse. But telling him...That would be crossing a line of intimacy and honesty that she’d never crossed with anyone in her whole life.

She’d had boyfriends and friends in the past, who knew that her parents had died, and that her and her siblings were mostly raised by their grandmother. But she’d never really opened up about the accident, about the nightmares. She’d hoped that Dimitri’s late shifts would keep him from finding out entirely, but she was wrong. Apparently even bartenders get nights off.

She sighed, swallowed her fears, and rapped on his door.

“Come in,” he called.

“Hey, Dimitri,” Anya opened the door hesitantly. “Got a minute?”

The window was open, to let in the summer breeze, and Dimitri was hunched over his desk, deeply focused on whatever was in front of him, but he sat up, and turned in his swivel chair so he was facing her. “What’s up?”

“Well, I--” She looked up to meet his eye and stopped. “You’re wearing glasses.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled and pulled them off, placing them on the desk behind him. “Just reading glasses. Need them to see up close.” He gestured to his desk, where she could see an open sketchbook, and a surprisingly detailed pencil drawing.  

“You’re an artist.”

“It’s not a big deal,” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just a hobby.”

Anya raised an eyebrow. “You’re really good.”

“Uh, thanks.” If Anya didn’t know better she’d have sworn Dimitri was blushing for a moment, but it didn’t last long.  “Was there something you needed?”

“I want to talk to you,” Anya took a deep breath. “About my nightmares.”

His face softened. “You don’t have to do this. It’s not really my business.”

“If you’re going to wake up to me screaming you deserve to know what I’m screaming about,” Anya shrugged. “And against my better judgement, I’ve made the decision to trust you.”

“How sweet,” Dimitri deadpanned.

“If you’re going to be a jerk, then I’m not going to tell you.” Anya turned toward the door.

“Wait, Anya,” Dimitri sighed. “Stay. I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” Anya turned back to him, and nodded towards the bed. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.”

Dimitri’s mattress was a bit firmer than hers, and the blankets smelled like him. She could never place his scent. It was something a little bit spicy and a little bit sweet, and she was never sure if it was soap or deodorant or cologne.

“So,” Dimitri clicked his teeth.

“Look, I don’t usually talk about this with people, so y’know. No remarks from the peanut gallery, okay?” Anya let herself glance at his eyes, all warm and chocolate brown and reassuring. “Just...Don’t be a dick.”

“I won’t.”

“When I was eleven years old, I was in a car accident.” Anya took a shaky breath. “It was a week before Christmas. We were going to see the Nutcracker. My mother was driving, and it was just me, my parents, and my little brother, Alexei. He was 8. My sisters were in a separate car with my grandmother.”

“Anya, I…”

“Please, just, let me finish. My mom rolled through a greenlight, and at the same time, someone coming from the opposite direction spun out of control on a patch of ice. It was a head-on collision. My mother died on impact. My father died later, in the hospital. Alexei and I somehow survived."

“I’m so sorry.” Dimitri reached out and gingerly placed his hand over Anya’s own, which she realized was shaking.

“After that, we all lived with Nona,” Anya’s voice broke. “I tried so hard to forget that night, to forget the sound of my mother screaming, to forget my father yelling my mother’s name until he slipped out of consciousness himself. I can still see the fear in Alexei’s eyes. He kept calling out ‘ _Mama, mama, mama!”_  Anya couldn’t keep it together any longer. Tears began to run down her cheeks.

Dimitri took this as a cue to get up from the desk chair and sit next to her on the bed. He wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her hand. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” Anya leaned into his embrace; it was strangely comforting. “I’ve had nightmares ever since. I think Alexei has them, too. When I was a kid, Nona would comfort me. In college, I never had a roommate. I got lucky there,” she glanced up at him, “Or I guess whoever would’ve been my roommate got lucky there.”

“You _are_ pretty annoying,” Dimitri smirked and dropped his arm.

“Watch it.”

“But I, uh. I don’t mind it,” Dimitri murmured. “Calming you down, I mean.”

“Oh.”

“But hey, maybe your grandma can give me some tips?” He laughed, and all at once Anya felt entirely at ease again.

“She did used to sing me this lullaby,” she hesitated for a moment, before starting to quietly sing, _“Someone holds me safe and warm/Horses prance through a silver storm/Figures dancing gracefully/Across my memory._ She even had a music box made for me that plays the melody. Or, played, rather. It’s broken now. _”_

“Are you asking me to sing to you?” Dimitri asked, nudging her with his elbow and grinning, “Because I’m not on board with that.”

Anya gave Dimitri a light shove. “Shut up.”

They fell into a moment of silence as their eyes met again, but it was not a moment meant to last. Dimitri cleared his throat, “So, was that everything?” he asked, the warmth draining from his tone. “‘Cause I was sort of in the middle of something.”

“And the jerk is back." Anya rolled her eyes and stood up and stepped toward the door. "One wonders why I even told you all that." 

"I've been told I have honest eyes." Dimitri grinned. 

Anya crossed the threshold shaking her head. 


	3. July-August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!! Chapter 3! Dimitri backstory!

Summer in New York was oppressive. The air was heavy and thick with heat, and Anya would’ve given anything for a working air conditioning. Of course, that was a luxury neither her nor Dimitri could afford. So she sat on the couch, drenched in sweat, trying to will herself to do  _ anything  _ productive. So far, all she’d managed was to move from her sweaty sheets to the couch. That was several hours ago, before Dimitri had even left for work. 

She’d meant to start some new job applications, but she was just staring at them, the words blurring.  _  Am I dehydrated?  _ She wondered absently, before her disjointed and sluggish thoughts were cut by a shrill tone.

Her phone. No, not her phone. She had an iPhone. This was an ancient nokia flip phone. This was Dimitri’s shitty pay-as-you-go phone. 

“Dumbass,” Anya mumbled to herself, before peeling herself off the couch, sliding on a pair of sneakers she’d left by the door, and grabbing her wallet. She’d never actually been to The Palace before, as much as Sophie talked it up. Maybe she would’ve, before she met Dimitri, but now that she had, it felt  _ weird.  _ The Palace was  _ his  _ place, so she’d avoided it like the plague for nearly three months.

Leave it to Dimitri to kill that streak. And, yeah, sure, Anya didn’t have to immediately head to the bar, but she could already hear him complaining about it later. And anyways, the subway was cooler than their apartment. She arrived at the bar--which was blissfully air conditioned. The Palace was one part high end restaurant, which served both lunch and dinner, and didn’t even close in between, and one part bar. Photos of favorite customers and longstanding employees were tacked up on the olive green walls. Anya scanned the restaurant and didn’t see Dimitri anywhere, so she headed towards the bar, but he wasn’t there either. Lily was there, instead, mixing drinks and cracking jokes. 

“Lily?” Anya asked. 

“Anastasia Romanov, as I live and breathe!” Lily exclaimed. “To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you in my establishment?” 

“Please, call me Anya,” Anya laughed. “And I’m here for Dimitri.” 

Lily’s eyes widened. “ _ You _ ’re his roommate Anya?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Anya shrugged and held up the phone. “He left his phone at home, so I thought I’d bring it to him.” 

Lily raised an eyebrow. “That’s nice of you.” 

“Yeah, well,” Anya shifted her weight. “I wouldn’t hear the end of it, if I didn’t.” 

“Right,” Lily nodded, “Just leave it with me, and I’ll give it to him when he gets back.” 

“Oh, cool, thanks.” Anya handed Lily Dimitri’s janky flip phone, and was about to turn and leave, when her eyes caught on one of the many photographs tacked up on the wall. Dimitri leaned against the wall, with a lopsided party hat on his head, a drink in his hand, and half a smile on his face. 

“That’s from his birthday three years ago,”  Lily said gently, apparently following Anya’s gaze. “It was the only time I’ve ever gotten him to celebrate. And it was only because I tricked him into it.” 

“He doesn’t like his birthday?” Anya didn’t do a lot for her birthday--she hadn’t even mentioned it to Dimitri when it hit a month before--but she still at least went out for drinks with her sisters (and Alexei). “Why not?” 

Lily sighed. “I wish I knew.”

* * *

 

Dimitri woke to a loud whirring sound. He groaned, rolled over, and covered his ears with pillows. The sound pushed through, anyway, and Dimitri rolled onto his back, defeated. “What the hell is she doing?” he mumbled to himself, stumbling out of bed, and followed the noise down the hall to the kitchen. 

“Oh, good morning,” Anya stood over a blender-- _ Since when do we own a blender? Did she buy that just to piss me off? _ “Oh, nice boxers.” 

Dimitri couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed that he’d slept in his boxers and nothing else. “What the hell?” 

Anya rolled her eyes and flicked off the blender. “I’m making a smoothie.” 

“Okay, but,” Dimitri paused. “Why so early?”

“It’s 10 AM.” 

“An _ ya _ ,” Dimitri groaned. “You know I don’t get off work until, like, 2:30. This is the crack of dawn for me.” 

“Augh, don’t be such a baby,” Anya pulled a mug down from the cabinet, grabbed the french press from the counter, filled the mug, and held it out towards Dimitri. “I made you coffee.” 

Dimitri blinked sleepily, but took the coffee and drank greedily. “If there’s one thing I like about you, it’s your coffee.” 

“What can I say,” Anya shot a wink, “It’s a gift.”

“So,” Dimitri cleared his throat. “What’s with the uh,” he gestured to the greenish liquid in the blender. “Whatever that is.”

“Spinach and wheatgrass,” Anya took the pitcher off the base and filled a glass. “I have a big job interview today and I want to be refreshed for it.” 

“Ah.” Dimitri nodded and sipped his coffee again. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks,” Anya smirked, and leaned forward. “But I don’t need luck.”

* * *

 

Anya aggressively paced the length of the apartment, from the end of the hall, to the kitchen, and back again, sweat dripping down her face; and this time, it was not just a product of the heat. She looked down at her phone. 2:53 PM. Seven more minutes. Her stomach flipped. She walked out from the hall to the living room, where Dimitri sat, unaffected on the couch, flicking through a National Geographic. 

“I didn’t get the job, did I?” She asked, not bothering to wait for him to speak before continuing. “I mean, they would’ve called me by down, right? They said they would call me by 3 PM today.” 

Dimitri didn’t look up from his magazine. “Maybe they’re just really busy today.”

“Dimitri!” Anya growled. “This is important!” God, she could’ve slapped the disinterested look right off his face. “Whether or not I get this job impacts  _ your _ future, too, ya know.” 

Dimitri sighed, closed his magazine, and opened his mouth to say something, but at that exact moment, Anya’s phone rang.

“Oh my God.” She stood frozen in place, staring as Neva Publishing’s number flashed on screen. 

“Well, answer it!” Dimitri threw up his arms in frustration.

“Right, right.” She accepted the call. “Hello?” 

_ “Anastasia Romanov?”  _

“Speaking.” 

_ “This is Chloe, from Neva Publishing. Is this a good time?”  _

“Thank you for calling, this is a great time.” 

_ “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to hire you. Can you come in tomorrow at 8 AM  to iron out some details?” _

Anya tried to hide the excitement in her voice. “Yes, I can. Thank you again.” She ended the call, put down her phone, and stood in shocked stillness for a moment. 

“So?” Dimitri asked, standing up from the couch. 

Anya turned to face him, unable to hold back any longer. “I got the job!” 

He grinned back at her. “I knew you would!” 

Without thinking, she threw her arms around him. He stiffened for a second, before returning the embrace. It was only a short hug, as Dimitri pulled out of it after a moment, his eyes clouding over. 

“Does this mean…” He swallowed. “Are you moving out?” 

Once again, the world slowed. She’d always planned on moving out once she got a job, but now, hearing those words, something didn’t feel right.

“I...I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” Dimitri cocked his head to the side. 

“I mean, you haven’t found someone to replace me, and I haven’t looked at other places to live yet anyway.” Anya bit her lip. “But I know you don’t exactly like having me around, so I can, you know, start looking.” 

“Anya,” Dimitri sighed. “I  _ do  _ like having you around.”

“You do?” 

“Yeah,” Dimitri gave her a small smile. “I do.” 

Anya couldn’t help returning his smile. “Good, because I like..being around.” 

* * *

 

Dimitri felt guilty. Stupidly, absurdly guilty. It was sort of a new feeling for Dimitri--well, not new, but it had been a long time since he’d felt it last--and he wasn’t a fan. It had been weeks since Anya had told him about her parents, and in the back of his brain, he was still dwelling on the poor way he’d handled it. He’d wanted to say something the next day, but she acting like nothing had changed, so he decided to try to just. Let it go. But apparently, his brain couldn’t let it happen. And then after she decided to stay, after she said she felt like he didn’t want her around...

So here he was, pacing in the kitchen while his coffee got cold, waiting for Anya to get home from brunch with Tatiana. With any luck, she’d be back before his shift started. He’d been waiting about thirty minutes, which--ignoring how pathetic that was--meant she couldn’t be gone much longer.  _ How long can brunch take?  _

It turned out, brunch took another half an hour. But then Anya was in the door and complaining about how Tatiana spent the whole time going on and on about her fiance and their wedding plans. It took five solid minutes before Dimitri could get a word in edgewise.

“Anya, hey, you can finish complaining about Tatiana later, I promise,” Dimitri gulped nervously, “But I need to talk to you about something important.” 

“Okay…” Anya was hesitant. 

“I just,” Dimitri cleared his throat. “I feel bad about how dismissive I was when you told me about your parents. I do really appreciate you, uh, opening up to me, I guess. I know how hard that can be.”

“Do you?” Anya seemed doubtful. 

“I do,” Dimitri said firmly, and his chest tightened with his grief for a moment. 

Dimitry could see curiosity pulling on Anya like strings on a puppet, but she managed to resist. “You don’t have to tell me.” 

Instinctively, he put his hand over hers. “I want to.” 

“Oh.” 

“My mother left when I was two. I don’t remember her at all. I used to have a picture of her, when I was younger. But I lost it, eventually.” 

“Did your father ever remarry?” 

“No.” Dimitri swallowed and pulled his hand away, trying not to remember too vividly. “For a long time, it was just me and my dad. We didn’t have a lot, but we got by, and my dad never let on how much he was dealing with.  _ ‘Dima,’  _ he used to say,  _ ‘One of these days things are gonna start looking up for us. We just gotta keep on going.’”  _ Dimitri paused and took a shuddering breath. _ “Never give up, Dima.”  _

“Dima?” Anya asked, her blue eyes wide and soft. 

“That’s what he called me,” Dimitri shrugged. 

“Thank you for te--” 

“I’m still not done.” Dimitri crossed his arms. “When I was nine years old, my father was arrested. He was a good man, but he had a big mouth. He ended up with a felony assault charge for speaking up to the wrong people. After that, I was a ward of the state. I bounced from foster home to foster home.” 

“I had no idea.” Anya let out a long breath. “Is your father still in prison?” 

“No,” Dimitri shook his head. “My father died in prison when I was fifteen. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him.”  

“I’m so sorry, Dimitri.” She took his hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Dimitri’s chest tightened. “Anyways, I just...I thought you should know.” 

“Thank you,” Anya dropped his hand and looked up to meet his eye. "For telling me, for trusting me." 

Dimitri didn't break eye contact. "Well, we're friends now, right?" 

"Yeah," Anya nodded. "We're friends."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! Please do leave a comment and let me know what you thought.


	4. September-October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri is screwed and Anya is in denial.

Anya was sprawled on the couch, holding a James Patterson novel over her head, reading, and trying to make the most of her alone time. Sunday afternoons were the only time Anya had to herself these days, since she spent weekdays working 8 hours, and Saturdays were devoted to high tea with Nona and her sisters. But Dimitri worked from noon until five on Sundays, and she was adamant about making the most of those few hours.

Of course, peace and quiet was never so easy. The shrill tones of her cell phone rang out across the empty apartment. She sat up, frowning, and checked the caller ID before answering. Alexei.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Was the first thing he said.

“Hello to you, too,” Anya cocked her head to the side. “Why am I in so much trouble?”

“Because a little birdy told me that you aren’t moving out of “The Craigslist Man’s" apartment anytime soon.” Anya could hear the shit-eating grin Alexei was wearing.

“How do you know that?”

“I went out bar-hopping last night, and we hit The Palace,” a pause, “Your boyfriend is one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen.”

“He is _not_ my boyfriend!” Anya snapped. “We’re friends.”

Alexei laughed. “I bet you’re so red right now.”

“Shut-up.”

“He told me all about how you agreed not to move out,” Alexei was barely holding back his amusement. “How he really _enjoys_ living with you.”

“Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov!” Anya was almost yelling now, which she was sure would only make things worse later. “Don’t make me tell Nona about what really happened to her heirloom vase.”

Alexei’s laughter stopped abruptly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Anya put a hand on her hip, hoping he'd be able to sense her posture through the phone. “Try me.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t tell anyone that you’re a big fat liar,” Alexei sighed. “But, seriously, what’s the big deal?”

“You just spent this whole conversation making fun of me,” she shook her head, “Can you imagine what Olga and Maria will say?”

“Oof,” Alexei clicked his tongue on the back of his teeth. “Good point.”

“For the record, Dimitri and I are friends. I care about him,” Anya paused, “But I do _not_ have any feelings for him.”

“Well,” Alexei snickered. “That’s unfortunate for Dimitri.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Seriously?” He sounded incredulous. “That man is clearly crazy into you. As soon as he realized that I was your brother, he practically fell over himself to make sure that I knew how much he likes living with you. Apparently, you’re the best roommate he’s ever had. Also, he gave me drinks on the house.”

“Free drinks?” Anya swallowed. That was usually how Dimitri liked to flirt. “How do you know he wasn’t just hitting on _you_?”

“Jealous?”

Anya scoffed. “Not even. Just don’t want to see my baby brother doing the walk of shame in my own apartment, that’s all.”

“Well, for your information, if he was hitting on me, he did a terrible job.” There was a rustling as Alexei moved the phone. “He called me Alex.”

* * *

It was 2:36 AM and Dimitri was leaned against the bar, drying glasses. Last call was at 2 AM, the bar closed at 2:15 AM, and he liked to be home by 3 AM.  It was a weeknight, so aside from a few regulars, the bar had been all but dead after the restaurant closed at 10 PM. Dimitri had even found the time to draw, something that did not go unnoticed by Vlad. Luckily, Dimitri had managed to slam his sketchbook closed before Vlad could get a good look at the drawing. And speaking of Vlad, Dimitri had decided to let Vlad stay late that night, out of the goodness of his heart, and a little bit because he sometimes got lonely closing up for the night.

Which meant that Vlad was currently taking the opportunity to pester Dimitri about his living situation. “As your landlord, I have a right to know.”

“All you need to know is that she’s still living there,” Dimitri said, wiping out the nozzles of the soda and seltzer dispenser. “And that we pay our rent on time.”

“Okay fine,” Vlad huffed. “As your friend? Don’t I deserve to know about your life? Why did she really decide to stay? Don’t give me more of this ‘we’re friends now’ bullcrap.”

“It’s not bullcrap, Vlad,” Dimitri shook his head. “It’s the truth.”

“You’re really telling me that there’s no feelings there?” Vlad raised an incredulous eyebrow and downed his last shot, handing the glass to Dimitri, who slid it onto the last of the dishwashing trays.

“Look,” Dimitri sighed, “even if I did have feelings for her, and I’m not saying I do. But _if_ I did, it wouldn’t matter. She’d never reciprocate. She’s a beautiful, intelligent, strong woman, not to mention her family’s money is so old, it’s in goddamn molasses. What the hell would she want with me?”

Vlad fell silent, then, and Dimitri just shook his head and took the full dishwashing tray to the back kitchen and put into the big, industrial dishwasher they used. He checked the time on his watch. _2:45 AM._

He grabbed his coat on the way back out. “Alright, we’re leaving now.”

“Dimitri,” Vlad hesitated. “I didn’t mean to--”

“Just...Just forget about it, okay? I don’t have feelings for her, so it doesn’t matter.”

They shared a cab back to the apartment building in relative silence, both tired. Dimitri leaned back against the worn out seat, and let his eyes close for a moment. He’d worked a double shift that day, and the day before, and he had another one the next day. The extra hours were voluntary, because he could always use more money, but that didn’t make them any less exhausting.

Vlad paid the cab because Dimitri didn’t have any cash, but he promised Vlad free drinks as repayment and that seemed to smooth things over. And soon Dimitri was in his boxers and undershirt, sitting on the edge of his bed. He double checked his alarm before plugging in his phone. He reached over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table, but he stopped short, his eye catching on his sketchbook.

He flipped it open to examine the drawing he’d done at work. It was a bit smudgy and the lines were rough, but for a portrait drawn entirely from memory, it wasn’t bad. He’d captured the way the woman’s unruly hair always fell in her face, the clarity and sharpness of her eyes, even the way her lips curved up to one side when she was trying not to smile at something stupid he’d said.

There was no mistaking that he was looking at a pencil drawing of Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanov, of Anya. His roommate.  

Dimitri dropped his head into his hands. _Fuck me._

* * *

 

Anya could’ve killed Dimitri. She really could’ve. She paced the length of their apartment with clenched teeth and crossed arms. They were a week into October, and all she wanted was to bring a little festive fun to the apartment, but apparently Dimitri was too much of a grumpy asshole for a couple tissue paper pumpkin decorations. He’d taken them down, and told her not to put anymore decorations without asking him first.

As if _he_ had more right to decide what should be in _their_ apartment. So, Anya had snapped right back at him, and before she knew it escalated into a knockdown, drag-out fight, that she was sure their neighbors could hear.

 _“I can’t believe I decided to keep living with you,”_ she’d snapped.

 _“Then why don’t you move out?”_ Dimitri had responded, before storming out the door, and slamming it behind him.

Anya was seething, still, but a voice in the back of her mind was already regretting some of her words. She really did love living with Dimitri, for the most part. He just got under her skin sometimes. And, honestly, how was she supposed to know that he was the Ebenezer Scrooge of Halloween? It seemed like just the type of holiday for Dimitri--lots of alcohol, girls in skimpy outfits, what’s not to like?

She sighed and sat down on the couch. Pacing a hole in the living room floor wasn’t going to solve anything. She pulled out her phone, and let her thumb hover over his contact, before scrolling past and opening up her sibling group-chat.

_You won’t believe what Dimitri did today. He took down my Halloween decorations._

She hesitated on the _Send_ button, rereading her message, and realizing how ridiculous it sounded. Had they really been screaming at each other over a couple of cheap decorations? She deleted the message and scrolled back up to Dimitri’s contact, ready to call and apologize, when the front door opened.

“Anya,” he said, every hint of venom gone from his voice. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Anya sighed. “It’s your space, too, and I should’ve asked first.”

“Maybe,” Dimitri nodded. “But it was an overreaction for me to take them down. I should’ve just talked to you about it.”

“Well,” Anya gestured to the empty space on the couch next to her. “You can talk to me about it now.”

Dimitri’s lips curved up into a slight smile. “Okay.” He sat down next to her, close enough that their shoulders brushed against each other. Anya ignored the way her heart stuttered in her chest at the touch. He took a deep breath, twisting his torso so he was looking at her with his soft brown eyes. “I’ve never really talked about this.”

She put her hand on his forearm. “There’s a first time for everything.”

“I used to love Halloween, when my dad was still around,” Dimitri sighed. “But holidays in general kind of suck as a foster kid. Either you’re in a home with 7 other kids, and they can’t afford a Christmas present or a Halloween costume. Or you’re in a home that could afford it, but they don’t care enough. Some kids get lucky. But mostly it sucks. And Halloween is the worst of them, because you end up being the only kid in your class who doesn’t have a costume.”

“I didn’t realize,” Anya squeezed Dimitri’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Dimitri nodded. His eyes were so big and vulnerable. “I should’ve just told you.”

“It’s hard sometimes,” Anya said, “To admit a weakness.”

* * *

 

October 20th was Dimitri’s least favorite day of the whole year. It used to be his favorite day, when his dad was still around. His dad would always bring him home something special, a new toy or a piece of cake from the fancy bakery down the street. October 20th was Dimitri’s birthday. A whole day dedicated to him. But then his dad was gone, and suddenly his birthday was just another day, often overshadowed by Halloween, which was a crappy holiday to begin with.

This year, Dimitri’s birthday fell on a Saturday, which was good, because that meant he would be too busy working to think about things. Years when he didn’t have to work on his birthday were the worst. Those days left him alone with his thoughts, alone with his grief. He’d tried to visit his father’s grave once, years ago, hoping it might give him some kind of closure, but it didn’t, not really. The plain stone and brown grass and lack of flowers just served as a reminder of the circumstances of his father’s death, and how he could never afford to make any improvements. 

Dimitri woke up around 10 AM to get ready for his shift at 12. (A double shift, like he always worked on Saturdays--starting as a waiter, and shifting to the bar around 8 PM). He went for an hour run, showered quickly, and walked out into the kitchen with a towel around his waist. As usual, Anya was leaned against the counter, eating a yogurt, focused on her phone. Her group-chat with her siblings, if he had to guess.

“Morning,” she said, without looking up.

“Morning. Big plans for the afternoon tea?” He asked, pulling a carton of eggs out of the fridge for his own breakfast.

“What?” Anya looked up suddenly, confused for a moment, before her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, right, it’s Saturday.”

Dimitri raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Totally.” Anya answered too quickly. “Everything’s normal here.”

“Ookay,” Dimitri rolled his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you that you can be really weird?”

“Shut up.” Anya finished the yogurt, tossed the container in the trash, and dropped her spoon in the sink. “I gotta go.”

“Bye.” Dimitri watched her rush out the door, and then pulled a skillet out of the cupboard. _Weird_ , he thought, _that she was leaving so early._ Dimitri didn’t dwell on it for too long, and focused instead on his breakfast. And then on getting ready for work. And then on work, which was a typical busy Saturday. At least, until 7:45 PM. Dimitri had just given his last table their check, and was taking a few minutes to recenter himself before taking over the bar. And then Lily was in front of him, her deep red lacquered lips turned up in a jovial smile.

“Hey, Boss.”

“Hey, Kid.” Light danced in Lily’s eyes. “Go home.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m tending the bar tonight.” This was something Lily did, from time to time. And any other night Dimitri wouldn’t have questioned it.

“This isn’t some birthday thing, is it?” Dimitri narrowed his eyes. “Because I told you--”

“I’m not doing anything for your birthday, Kid,” Lily crossed her arms. “I’m your boss and I’m telling you to leave.”

Dimitri sighed, and untied his apron. “Fine.”

It was still early, and it wasn’t very cold yet, so instead of taking a cab, Dimitri decided to walk back to the apartment. He stopped at his favorite bodega for a sandwich (and to pet the bodega cat, Tommy), and ate as he meandered his way home, taking in the people and sounds of Brooklyn. Dimitri did love his borough. Brooklyn had always been his home, the only home he’d ever known. Hell, the city itself raised him more than any foster parent ever had. Eventually he made it home, expecting to see Anya already in her pajamas and a messy bun, curled on the couch with a book, enjoying her alone time. But she wasn’t there. There was a bottle of champagne, two crystal glasses, and a birthday card on the table.

_Damn it, Vlad._

“Anya?” Dimitri called, examining the bottle. It looked expensive.

Anya popped her head out of her bedroom. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but--”

“Dimitri,” Anya fully stepped out of her room, and he could see that she was, in fact, in her pajamas and messy bun. “Don’t worry.”

“The champagne--” Dimitri hesitated.

“Was nothing,” Anya picked it up from the table, and began working the cork. “It’s just a little bubbly for your birthday.”

“Anya,” Dimitri shook his head. “I don’t--”

“I know. Which is why the champagne is all I did.” The cork popped, and Anya let the bubbles overflow onto her hand before picking up a glass and pouring. “I already had the glasses. I just thought we could sit, drink a little champagne, and I don’t know, watch a movie, or some TV?”

“I can’t believe you got Lily to give me a night off, for _this_ ,” Dimitri rolled his eyes, but picked up the full glass. “And also I can’t believe Vlad told you it was my birthday.”

“Actually, Lily told me.” Anya filled the second glass.

“Huh.” Dimitri took a sip of his champagne and sighed. “Look, I appreciate the thought, but it’s really not necessary.”

“Not necessary?” Anya put down the champagne bottle. “Dimitri, I lost my parents when I was eleven years old. I only had eleven birthdays with them. You never know when life will take someone away from you.”

“Anya.” Dimitri hesitated, guilt rising up in his chest. It hadn’t occurred to him the importance of a birthday for someone who had suffered such great loss. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she took a step forward, so she was close enough to reach out and brush the stray hair out of his eyes. “Just let me celebrate with you, Dima.”

His heart stuttered at the use of his childhood nickname. It was jarring, hearing it for the first time since in almost twenty years, but the realization that he not only didn’t mind hearing her say it, he _liked_ it, was even more jarring. All he could do was stare into her soft blue eyes and nod, heart pounding. “Okay.”

She grinned. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Oh, don’t get all cocky on me, Romanov,” Dimitri chuckled. “I just don’t have anything better to do.”

“While I’m sure that’s true,” Anya grabbed the champagne bottle off the table and brought it to the small coffee table in between the couch and the TV, “Nothing can take this away from me.”

“So,” Dimitri followed her to the couch, “What are we watching?”

“That’s up to you, Birthday Boy.”  Anya handed him the remote.

They ended up watching Oceans 11, because somehow Anya had never seen it, and Dimitri couldn’t let it go. _“It’s a classic of the heist genre,_ ” he’s said. She’d rolled her eyes and reluctantly agreed (“ _Since it’s your birthday_ ”). But Anya, it turned out, loved the heist concept, which Dimitri found extremely gratifying.

At some point, she leaned her head on his shoulder, and he shifted his weight to support hers. Her hair tickled his chin, and once again he was overwhelmed by the fragrance of her orange scented shampoo. This time, he didn’t mind it so much. Tentatively, he let his arm wrap around her waist. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away, or slap his hand.

By the time the movie ended, Dimitri was half asleep, determined not to let the moment end. But Anya pulled alway almost immediately, her eyes on her phone. “It’s late,” she said quietly, and if Dimitri didn’t know better, he would’ve thought she was disappointed.

“You don’t have to work tomorrow,” He pointed out. “And it’s only 11.”

“11:15.”

Dimitri rolled his eyes, but picked up the champagne bottle and poured the last of evenly between their glasses. “At least finish the champagne with me. It _is_ my birthday for another 45 minutes, after all.”

Anya softened, and reached for her glass. “You make a convincing case.”

Dimitri grinned. “I’ve been told I can be very persuasive.”

Anya his a chuckle behind her champagne glass, but the lines around her eyes betrayed her. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I try.”

Somehow, they managed to make it up until just after midnight talking. The topics varied from Vlad's new puppy, Pooka, to tea with Anya's family, to the obnoxious customers Dimitri had to serve that day. The content of the conversation didn't matter, it was just nice to talk. Until Anya checked the time again and sighed. "I really do need to go to bed now."

"I know," Dimitri smiled. "Thanks for staying up a little later."

"Well, since I didn't get you a present, I gave you my presence." Anya punctuated her joke by downing the last swallow of her champagne.

"Okay, now I want you to leave."

Anya set her glass back on the table, and stood up. “Goodnight, Dimitri.”

“Goodnight.” He followed her with his eyes, as she strode down the hall to her bedroom. She stopped just short of the door, and turned back to face him again.

“Happy Birthday.”

Dimitri answered quietly, perhaps too quiet for Anya to have heard. “It was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! I was just never happy with it. I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I just had to get it posted. I'm sick of looking at it lol.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who's back on their bullshit, lads. I'm sorry it's been so long, I hope it was worth the wait!

**NOVEMBER-DECEMBER**

 

The sun was out, but there was a chill in the air as Anya strolled down the streets of Brooklyn. She’d just had her afternoon tea, and she knew that Dimitri would be at work by now. Yes, she could’ve just waited until the next day to see him, but it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Bothering Dimitri at his place of work seemed a lot more fun than sitting at home. When she arrived at The Palace, it was early enough that she knew he’d still be waiting tables, so she let the hostess seat her, making sure she got a table in his section, and waited.

A few minutes of flipping through the menu, and he arrived. She couldn’t stop her smile at the sight of him in his work clothes, the white button up with rolled up sleeves, the black vest, and the bow tie.

“Waiting for someone?” He asked, with an eyebrow raised.

Anya rolled her eyes. “No, just here to annoy you.”

Dimitri broke into a wide, toothy, and extremely disarming grin. “So, what you’re saying, is you’re here to see me?”

“Well--”

“Did you miss me?” He put a hand over his heart. “I’m touched.”

Anya tried to ignore the sensation of her cheeks heating up, but she knew she must’ve looked like a tomato. She hated him, she really did. “Shut up.”

“Make me.” He retorted instantly, leaning down into her personal space.

Her eyes darted to his lips for a moment before she spoke. “I, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I’ll have a ginger ale, please.”

Dimitri blinked quickly and straightened his posture. “Sure,” he said, with a nod, as he strode away from the table. Anya watched him go, and as soon as he was out of sight she leaned back and let out a deep exhale. She almost regretted her decision not to wait until the morning to talk to him, because really, she could’ve lasted the rest of the day not talking to him. She felt like a lovesick teenager. Not that she was in love with Dimitri, per say, just eager to see him.

Really, it was Tatiana’s fault. Tatiana was the one who gave her the idea to bring someone to Nona’s birthday party. And Maria’s fault. Nona’s birthday was always a big to-do, at least since about three years after the accident. The holidays were too hard for everyone to handle, so they went all out for Nona’s birthday. Anya had never brought a guest before, but Tatiana thought she ought to, and said as much every year, and then _this_ year Maria chimed in and said she wanted to meet Dimitri, and before Anya knew what she was doing, she was asking her grandmother if she could bring Dimitri.

“Craigslist Man?” Nona had asked, with a raised eyebrow.

 _"Dimitri_ ,” Anya had repeated. “He’s my friend.”

Somehow, Nona had agreed to extend him an invitation, and now Anya had to actually ask Dimitri. Or, she could chicken out and just tell everyone he refused. (She couldn’t do that, they’d be offended, and she really wanted them to like him.)

Dimitri returned with the ginger ale. “Are you ready to order?”

“Do you want to come to my Nona’s birthday party?”

Dimitri froze. " _What_?”

“My Nona’s birthday is in a couple weeks. We always have a big party, because we don’t really do the holidays, and you’re invited.” Anya shrugged and sipped her ginger ale.

“Invited, like, by your grandmother?”

Anya nodded. “I mean, it took a little convincing, but yes.”

“And this is like, a dinner party?”

“Yeah. A lot of wine and hors d'oeuvres,” Anya avoided eye contact. “You don’t have to…”

“No, no, I,” Dimitri rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d love to.”

She turned back to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he smiled reassuringly. “Totally.”

“Oh, well,” she blushed. “Great.”

There was a lull, and then Dimitri spoke again. “So...Your order?”

* * *

Dimitri was going to be sick.

In less than an hour he was going to meet Anya’s entire family, all at once, at her grandmother’s birthday. He was wearing a charcoal grey waistcoat over a lighter grey button up with the sleeves rolled up because according to the sales girl at Nordstrom’s, he was “a winter” and should stick to “blues and cool greys” or something, and Anya had told him she would be wearing a blue dress, and he was afraid of clashing.

He was standing in their dingy living room, nervously running his hands over his jacket and pants to make sure they weren’t wrinkling. Anya wasn’t quite ready yet, but apparently there was already a car waiting for them on the street, which was new for Dimitri. Sure, he’d called an Uber before, but this was a fancy, black cadillac with tinted windows for celebrities to travel “incognito” type car service. It was a pretty far leap from an Uber that smelled like stale cigarettes and those weird pine tree air fresheners.

Just another reminder that he didn’t have a chance with Anya, who came from a world of wealth and glittering jewels and private car services. He was just some overgrown orphan with a shitty apartment and a bartending gig. And he was supposed to meet her grandmother and all her sisters and all their closest friends, all in one go. So, no pressure there. His stomach lurched as he imagined the disdainful looks of Anya’s family, and he hung his head in his hands.

Anya stepped out of her room, and he heard her ask, “How do I look?” but he didn’t look up to see.

“I can’t do this,” he mumbled into his hands.

Anya sighed and stood in front of him. “My family isn’t that scary. My brother already likes you, for one, and for another, I care about you. So, they’re going to have to like you. Okay?”

Dimitri looked up finally, wanting to meet her gaze when he spoke, but the words stuck in his throat as he caught sight of her. All at once, it felt like the air was sucked out of the room and he couldn’t catch his breath. The strapless evening gown hugged her curves in all the right ways, but became loose and flowing past her hips. The deep blue of the fabric brought out her eyes, so bright and blue. Her hair was swept back, leaving her clavicles bare, and that should _not_ have been so enticing, but all Dimitri could think about was peppering kisses along her neck and shoulders.

“Dimitri?” Anya asked expectantly, and Dimitri remembered he was supposed to be speaking.

“Uh, sorry.” He felt his face burning. “You’re right. Let’s go.” He stood up and followed her to the door, stopping just shy of it. “By the way?”

“Yeah?”

“You look beautiful.”

* * *

 

Meeting Anya’s family was actually not as bad as Dimitri had envisioned. Well, mostly. Her grandmother, Maria, had narrowed her eyes at him, before jumping into a very intense interrogation about his past and his family and his life plans, in the middle of the party. So, now Anya’s entire family knew that he was an orphan and that he went to exactly one semester of college before he decided it wasn’t worth the money. Which couldn’t have been the best impression, but he wasn’t about to lie to them. Maria had looked at him skeptically at first, and Dimitri thought for sure he was about to get kicked out, but then she softened into a smile.

“You seem like a man of character, Dimitri,” she said, and Dimitri felt his whole body sag with relief. “You work hard for yourself, despite the cards life has dealt you, and that is admirable.”

And then she was asked him about art, because apparently Anya had mentioned that he liked to draw, and for the first time in years, Dimitri put the Intro to Art History course he’d taken during his one semester of college to good use. He faked and stumbled his way through almost a whole conversation with the woman, before Anya’s sisters pulled him away, to all talk to (at?) him at once.

 _“I can’t believe Anya didn’t tell us how cute you are.”_ (Maria, who was apparently named after her grandmother)

 _“How did she convince you to come to this?”_ (Tatiana)

 _“What are your intentions with our sister?”_ (Olga)

Dimitri didn’t respond to Maria’s flirtations, but he did answer the questions presented to him, as best he could. “It didn’t take much convincing,” he shrugged. “I wanted to meet her family. And my intentions are simply to be her friend, to care for her.”

Those seemed to be good answers, as he was now left alone to nurse his drink, and take a bit of a breather. The party was nice, but it was far from his usual scene. Everyone was rich and highly educated and some of them were sort of pretentious about it. In a way it was a blessing, because it was all the convincing his brain needed to finally accept that he and Anya would never work as a couple. He took a sip of his drink and shook his head, pushing away the pang he felt in his chest at the thought.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” An unfamiliar voice said from behind him.

He whipped around to see a blonde woman with a bright smile and a martini glass standing behind him.

“Understatement.”

“You must be Dimitri,” she reached out her free hand to shake. “I’m Sophie, Ms. Feodorovna’s personal assistant.”

Dimitri shook her hand firmly. “Nice to meet you.”

She sipped her martini. “I don’t come from money, either. So, I get it. But trust me, you’ll get used to it.”

“Get used to it?” Dimitri furrowed his brow. “You think I’ll be invited to more of these?”

Sophie gave him an incredulous look. “But of course.”

* * *

 

It was mid-morning on December 25th, and Anya was exhausted. Her nightmares were always worse around the holidays, and it didn’t let up until late January. At least, Dimitri was understanding, and didn’t force her to put up any decorations, beyond a small tree in the living room. And anymore, when her screams woke him up, he would just shuffle across the hall and slide into bed with her. It was strange, realizing just how safe and comfortable she felt in his arms, just how deeply she trusted him, but it was mostly just nice to have someone in those moments.

Which is why she’d bought him a Christmas present. It was the first meaningful Christmas present she’d bought in years. But she wanted to thank him. And if he bought something for her, she didn’t want to be without a gift in return. She couldn’t imagine that going over well. And sure enough, a week before Christmas, a small package wrapped in shiny red paper appeared under their small tree; a tag with her name on it dangled off the top.

She put her gift under the tree a couple days later, something she hadn’t done since before the accident, but it wasn’t as off-putting as she expected it to be. It felt almost normal.

Now, she was staring at both the packages, waiting for Dimitri to wake up. She briefly wondered what he could’ve gotten her. It wasn’t the right size to be a book, nor was it small enough to be jewelry (and besides, jewelry would’ve been a bit much). She sighed and sipped her tea. She’d find out soon enough, she supposed.

It was another twenty minutes before Dimitri stumbled out of bed, wearing long flannel pajama pants and a navy blue henley, and in that time Anya managed to finish her tea and start in on a second cup.

“Morning,” he said, voice still rough from sleep, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

“Good morning.” She lifted her mug as an attempt at a greeting.

“So, uh,” Dimitri shuffled toward the kitchen. “I need coffee. But, after, I uh. I’m sure you noticed that I got you something.”

Anya nodded and smiled.  “Yeah. I got you something, too.”

“Cool, cool,” Dimitri let out a heavy breath, before pulling out the coffee grinder and setting about making his morning brew--black, with several (rather heaped, if you asked Anya) spoonfuls of sugar, as usual. Anya waited patiently on the couch, sipping her tea, and watching him. She’d watched him make his coffee before, teased him about the frankly obscene amounts of sugar he used, but there was something different about it that morning. Anya felt something warm, but unfamiliar bubble up in her chest. She turned away from Dimitri and focused on her tea, until he sat down next to her on the couch, both packages in hand.

He let out a deep breath, setting his coffee down and handing her the gift wrapped in the shiny red paper. “I, uh, I hope you like it.”

Anya nodded, but set the package down. “I think you should go first. I’m not sure I’m ready just yet. I haven’t opened a Christmas gift in years.”  

“Right.” Dimitri winced at himself. “Sorry.” He picked up his gift, gave it a quick once over, and a shake, and then tore through the paper. It was a set of very high quality, expensive drawing pencils. The kind he stared longingly at in the art supply store, but could never justify buying for himself. “Oh, wow.”

“I know how much you like to draw,” Anya shrugged. “And I figured you’d never buy these for yourself.”

Dimitri snorted. “You figured right.” He softened, then, looking up at her, his brown eyes wide and gentle. “Thank you, Anya.”

“I’m glad you like them.” The warm feeling was back, now radiating from her chest outwards throughout her whole body. She swallowed, and picked up Dimitri’s present for her. She paused before she opened it, glancing up at him.

“Hey,” he said gently. “If you don’t want to open it, that’s okay.”

Anya shook her head. “No, no. I do.” She let out a long exhale, and tore at the paper to reveal a white cardboard box. She opened the box slowly, and then stopped. Inside was the music box Nona had had made for her years ago, which had been broken for almost as long. She looked up at Dimitri, bewildered. “Did you steal this from my grandmother’s house?”

Dimitri reached up with his left hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah.”

Anya pulled the music box out and examined it. It didn’t look any different.

Dimitri’s voice came out in barely more than a whisper. “Try to play it.”

“Dimitri…” Anya’s eyes widened, but she did as she was told. The music box played a familiar, delicate melody. The words of the song echoed in her head.

 

_Far away, long ago,_

_Glowing dim as an ember_

_Things my heart used to know_

_Things it yearns to remember_

_And a song someone sings_

_Once upon a December_

 

“I had it fixed,” Dimitri explained hesitantly. “I, um, I know that you don’t really need it anymore, but I know how much it means to you and I just thought it would be nice.”  

The warmth in Anya’s chest elevated to a burning heat, and all at once she knew what it was. _Love_ . “Dimitri…” _I love you._ “Thank you.” She leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Dima.”

Dimitri flushed. “Merry Christmas, Anya.”

* * *

 The bar was loud and crowded, but that was to be expected on New Year’s Eve, especially given that it was a party. It was an annual tradition for Lily to throw a New Year’s Eve party for her staff and their friends or family. Anya had agreed to join Dimitri, partially to pay him back for going to Nona’s birthday party, but mostly because she wanted to spend time with him. Ever since Christmas Anya couldn’t get enough of Dimitri, of his smile and his eyes and the easy banter they exchanged.

She threw back the last of her champagne. She really was screwed.

It was nearly midnight, and people were starting to couple up. Anya had never had a kiss at midnight, but she couldn’t say she hadn’t thought about it. It seemed nice, in theory. She sighed and set down her champagne flute, watching Dimitri mingle and charm and flirt. She wasn’t jealous. She didn’t have a right to be jealous. But...she wished he was talking to her.

As if he was reading her mind, he made his way to her. “Having a good time?”

“The champagne is great.” Anya admitted. “But I wish I knew more people here.”

Dimitri shrugged. “I had to meet your whole family at once, Princess. You can deal with a few coworkers.”

Anya nodded. “Point taken.”

There was a lingering pause, and then Anya spoke again. “So, you have anyone to kiss at midnight.”

“Not yet,” Dimitri swallowed, before adding a cocky. “But I’m hopeful.”

“You better hurry up. You’ve only got a minute or so.”

Dimitri nodded, before breaking into a smirk. “True. But I’m already here, and you’re under the mistletoe.”

Anya’s eyes widened. " _What_?!”

Dimitri’s confidence wavered. “I mean. Unless you don’t want to.”

Anya bit her lip and looked up at the sprig. She couldn’t very well admit how much she wanted to kiss him, but she wasn’t going to say no, either. “It’s a mistletoe kiss. It doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

Dimitri hesitated for a moment, before agreeing. “Yeah, totally.”

 _10...9...8..._ The countdown began, effectively silencing any other conversation, as nothing could be heard over the rest of the party yelling.

…. _3...2...1_

And then Dimitri’s lips were on hers.


End file.
